


Grace Period

by APgeeksout



Category: Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Episode: s02e11 Donut Run, Gen, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica Mars vs. Student Loans</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace Period

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoveChilde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveChilde/gifts).



“You are a very popular lady, daughter-mine,” Dad said, fanning through the morning mail and waving the largest part of the haul at Veronica. 

She batted her eyelashes. “All that fan-mail, just for me?” She finished pouring her own coffee and held the pot up to ask whether she should refill his. 

He nodded, and she topped up his World's Greatest Dad mug - the Sharks' blue and orange one today – while he dealt the mail onto the kitchen table like the most depressing poker hand in history. 

“Nelnet. ACS. Great Lakes. AES, times two. Navient, times three.” 

“Gosh, what do you think they want from me? An autograph? To tell me all my balances have been cancelled? All my love and affection? My first-born child?”

“Probably that last one,” he said. “You're lucky that, back in my day – ”

“Before the earth's crust cooled? When the men were real men and the dames were real dames and the Coke contained real coke?”

He nodded. “And you could land a low-but-consistently-paid public service job without benefit of a four-year degree. Then again, maybe it's not so lucky. Maybe Sallie Mae could've raised you better.”

“Not a chance, Pops.” She took a seat at the table and drew the envelopes toward her, reordering the pile from most menacing to least. 

He smiled over the rim of his mug. “When's your grace period up?”

“Next month. Which leaves me just enough time to cross the border, grow a mustache, and change my name to 'Victorino'.” 

His smile faded. “One day, there will probably be a time when you and I can joke around about fugitives in Mexico. That day is not here yet.” 

She tipped her cup toward him in acknowledgment. In her room, tucked into a box with old ticket stubs and pieces of jewelry and notes in lots of different handwriting, there was a picture of a little girl, wearing her blonde hair in a french-braid and holding a red popsicle that'd painted her lips as bright as the favorite lipstick of the aunt who'd given her her name. It had come to her in an unmarked envelope in New York – where her mail had been more welcome than it tended to be now – and made whatever bad calls she'd made before or since seem worth it. 

“Fair enough. Maybe I can talk to Wallace. Get the Neptune basketball and dance teams to host a fundraiser car-wash for me?”


End file.
